My drifting thoughts a window sonnet form,
and through its panes I watch my neighbor
uproot unruly flowering – scilla thatswarm
to bloom his clipped back yard. He labors
to quench beauty that disrupts his will,
spills across his borders, trims his gait –
it staggers like a fly upon my sill
and ducking towards me, dives beneath my gate.
Tiny Roman candles, intermittent
bursts of blue, will kindle, sparking green –
along the fuse beneath the earth in winter,
will spread in my uneven turf, and stream
revelation till the end erase
order in the vacant lots of space.
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Poems